


The Tale of The Dragon Empress

by CassanderRoshack



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 11:34:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6852940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassanderRoshack/pseuds/CassanderRoshack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An old woman walks through the streets of Whiterun, basking in the glory of the city that had been rebuilt magnificently. She is known as a storyteller, spreading legends wherever she goes. Though when she finally rests, her services are called upon by the local children to tell them the story of the Dragon Empress, the Last Dovahkiin. The story is long and a truly epic tale of how a young girl went from someone in the wrong place at the wrong time, to someone who name was only spoken in the softest whispers of legend.</p><p>Champion of the people, Ender of the Great Civil War, Harbinger of the Companions, Leader of the Dark Brotherhood, Master of the Thieves Guild, Restorer of Eldergleem, Archmage of Winterhold, Champion of the Nine, Thane of all the greatest cities to ever rise from Skyrim's cold surface, Vanquisher of evil, Protector of the weak, Mother of the lost, and The Last of the Dovahkiin... She goes by many more names, but none so great as the Dragon Empress of Tamriel as she journeyed across Skyrim to find herself and to raise her people from the depths of despair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

                She hummed softly to herself as she walked through the streets of Whiterun. The cobblestone beneath her boots felt so familiar that she could have claimed to have been born here. In a way, she thought to herself, she could have been. Her tanned skin was lined with age and her hair was pulled back from her face with beads and metal shards tinkling together with the breeze. The silver and bronze contrasted quite a bit with her white hair. A weathered hand reached up to push a strand back as she looked up at Dragonsreach with a smile on her face, looking up at it with such a fondness. Her hand left her hair and touched the branch of Gildergreen that seemed to reach down to her. Her smile grew as she ghosted her fingers over the bright pink flowers, only sparing it a careful brush before shutting her eyes to breathe in deeply. Her breath slowly left her as she chose a bench to sit down on underneath it. For a moment she simply sat there, letting the sunshine warm her, and the wind rustle the leaves above her.  
  
                She felt a small tug on her blue dress and she blinked her eyes open to see a young boy looking at her. There was a slightly elder girl behind him looked at the woman curiously. “Hello, children.” She greeted warmly and the little girl, who was a bit braver, responded, “Hello!” The boy clearly couldn’t let his friend be braver and asked what they had truly intended on in the first place. “Ma’am, are you a storyteller?”

                The woman put a finger to her chin, as if in thought. “Perhaps I am! Perhaps I am not! Share your name young master, and I shall give you mine.” She spoke in a bit of a riddle, and the boy frowned and looked at his friend who rolled her eyes at him- as if he was worried for no reason. “I’m Cora Battle-Born. And this is my cousin, Kiva Gray-Mane. My mother told us that there was a grand storyteller who was coming to town to stop for supplies.” She said and looked at her cousin, who immediately nodded. Both were excited and the elderly woman smiled, “Ah, well children, I am what you seek.” They both looked at each other with wide eyes then looked at her, “Will you tell us a story please?” Cora and Kiva asked in unison, eyes bright at the mere thought of what the woman could tell them. “What story would you like to hear?” She asked sitting up as they took up seats on the ground before her. There were other children who asked they could join moments later and Cora frowned, thinking. “What’s the greatest story you’ve ever heard?”  
  
                The old woman laughed, “Every story I have heard has been great.” Kiva's soft voice reached up among the others. “What about the story of the Dragon Empress of Tamriel?” There was quiet among the children before they nodded that they wanted to hear that said story in particular. “Ah…” She murmured to herself and nodded, “The story of how Skyrim broke off to be its own land, led by the greatest Dragonborn since Talos.” Her smile returned as she spoke, “The one who defeated the Great Dragon Alduin, ended the Civil War, united the people of Skyrim’s different legends under one banner and lead to the dawn of a new age of prosperity to all of Tamriel. There are many books written about her, why not read them instead?” She asked and Cora shook her head, “They won’t tell it as well as you, Lady Storyteller!”

                She slowly nodded and spoke softly, “Alright then. She is known by many names… for all those who knew her, her name was simply… Cassander.” The children’s eyes had grown wider as she spoke. Few books actually mentioned a name of the empress. She sat back a moment, looking at their young and eager faces. “But, I suppose we should start at the beginning shouldn’t we?” The children nodded together and the elderly woman took a deep breath, looking over them with knowing eyes. “This is a long story… one that starts when the dragonborn was just a young lass who was simply at the wrong place at the wrong time… and ends a long time after that. So listen well, children, for this is the story of the Dragon Empress.”


	2. Beginnings

                Her green eyes blearily opened to the world around her. There was a pounding in the back of her head, as she tried to blink it away. She felt like she had been kicked by a horse in all honesty, and let out a small groan, lifting her head from where it was resting against a surface that was bumping wildly. The air around her was crisp and chilly for what she was wearing, and she shivered involuntarily. Where was she? Her head raised a bit more, turning skyward to see towering trees slid bumpily past her. She blinked again, now realizing she couldn’t move her feet or hands well. The redhead raised her head fully with a grunt, and then starred at the ropes tied tightly around her wrist. Eyes widening more than they had before, she looked around her wildly, breath quickening. There were three others in the back of the cart with her. A long strand of red hair fell down in her face as she looked at each one of them. The one beside her was looking at the wildlife they were passing. He had a cloak of feathers and had a gag around his mouth. His eyes connected with hers and she looked away quickly. Both were a deep shade of cerulean blue, though one had a serious cataract in it. She looked to the next person, who was in plain clothing like her own but he was fidgeting like mad- practically like a skooma addict who needed their fix. Of course, that was only what she imagined it. She had never seen skooma in her life, only heard about it from traders from Skyrim.

                The last was a soldier in blue, who looked up at her the moment that she looked at him. His blond hair was braided back. She didn’t manage to turn away fast enough and he spoke. “Hey… you.” He added the last bit, tapping his boot against her shoe. “You’re finally awake.” He attempted to smile and she swallowed. “You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there.” He nodded his head toward the one who was pulling at the ropes around his wrist, making their marks on his skin much worse than they had been before. “Damn you Stormcloaks!” He hissed back at the soldier, “Skyrim was fine until you came along! Empire was nice and lazy.” There was a snort beside her, a sound that the man who was gag made while still staring out into the wilderness. “If they hadn’t been looking for you, I could’ve stolen that horse and be halfway to Hammerfell.” She swallowed, remembering now why she was there.  
  
                It had been late in the night and she had been completely and utterly lost. There was very little moon that shined through the tree’s overgrowth above her. In the distance she had seen a camp fire and headed towards it to find a group of men in the same garb as the soldier in front of her now. They were all asleep and she had seen the thief trying to steal the horse. Her eyes narrowed at the thief from where she sat in binds. The man had threatened her loud enough to wake the soldiers. But whatever they would have done to them was interrupted by yet another group. Her bag was knocked into the flames by a horse, who was startled by the sudden yelling and sword clashing. She had been lucky to go along with it, but every bit of proof of who she was turned to ashes in that bag. There was a brief moment where she felt fear that they thought she was a thief or enemy soldier too. But how could they? Clearly she wasn’t a soldier, and she wasn’t with the thief either. Her head turned briefly to a city coming up in the far distance as the men kept talking back and forth. The thief immediately addressed her and she nearly jumped at being called out. “You there! You and me – we shouldn’t be here. It’s these Stormcloaks the Empire wants.” She recoiled from him and spoke softly, “You and I have nothing in common.” Her voice was much shakier than she would have liked to admit. Though thankfully, she had a rasp to it that covered it’s tremble. She had almost been out of supplies. It had been a long journey from her homeland. “We’re all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief.” The soldier commented dryly, as if he wasn’t worried about the outcome. Immediately the soldier guiding the horse told them to shut up and she lowered her head obediently. Whoever these people were, she didn’t want to anger them anymore than she already had.

                “And what’s wrong with him, huh?” The thief grunted, gesturing toward the man beside her that she looked at again through lowered dark lashes. Only now did the soldier seem angry, and he snapped harshly at the thief beside him. “Watch your tongue! You’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King.” She looked up to look at him more now. He didn’t look like the High King her mother had showed her pictures of as a child. Wasn’t he older? Nor did she remember his name being anything similar to a ‘Stormcloak’. Ulfric looked up at the thief as his eyes widened. Ulfric didn’t grunt or respond, but his piercing gaze made the thief almost panic for an entirely new reason. “Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You’re the leader of the rebellion! But if they’ve captured you… Oh gods, where are they taking us?!” There was a moment that the thief’s fear was the redhead’s own and she swallowed, turning her head to look at the soldier who sighed softly. “I don’t know where we’re going, but Sovngarde awaits.” She swallowed, knowing all too well what that meant for her.

                The thief rocked back and forth in his seat, “No… no, this can’t be happening. This isn’t happening.” She turned her head forward to look at the bridge they were approaching. The other cart in front of them seemed to have more soldiers in it, all who were probably having similar conversations to their own. “Hey, what village are you from horse thief?” The soldier asked and the thief replied with more wobble in his voice than had been in her own. “Why do you care?!” He said hopelessly and the soldier’s expression briefly softened, “A Nord’s last thoughts should be of home.” He murmured, and immediately her thoughts went back to the beautiful beaches of her home. Her cottage with her mother, on the far outskirts of town where her mother could freely practice her spells and heal those villagers who came to her. The sand beneath her feet and the animals she took care of. Now more than ever she wished to be back there. Her mother to still be alive… and the cottage to still be her home.

                “Rorikstead. I’m… I’m from Rorikstead.” He whispered. There was a shout from somewhere and she turned to look as a soldier in brown moved into sight, “General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!” Fear erased thoughts of home and she sat back with a swallow. “Good. Let’s get this over with.” The man she assumed was the general replied and the thief prayed softly, “Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me.” She threw him a rude look; she had never agreed with people who prayed only when they needed something. But immediately turned her head away, knowing she would have been scolded for those thoughts by her mother at one point. Though she thought ill of the man, she didn’t know if he prayed or not… and shouldn’t assume that he didn’t from his profession- no matter how illegal it was.

                The soldier scoffed in front of her. “Look at him. General Tullius the military governor.” He looked disgusted just saying it. “And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this.” She frowned, not knowing many of the terms he used. Her mother had taught her about Skyrim and her father, who had long since passed, but not about current events. The soldier continued, dismissing the general with a toss of a braid. “This is Helgen… I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in.” He smiled at the mere thought of it and she blinked, wondering if he grew up here or nearby though didn’t have the heart to ask. “Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe.”

                Off to the side as they passed, a young boy spoke. “Where are they going, Daddy? Who are they?” The father immediately ushered his son inside, “Why? I want to watch the soldiers.” He tried to convince his father to let him stay and was again told sternly to go inside which he finally did. The soldier ordered them to a halt and the thief spoke up again, “Why are we stopping?!” The soldier almost smirked at him, like the answer was so obvious. “Why do you think? End of the line.”  
  
                After a moment the soldier sucked in breath, “Let’s go. Shouldn’t keep the gods waiting for us.” He cast her a smile and for a moment, she found him unbelievably brave. “No, wait! We’re not rebels!” The thief shouted and some of the townsfolk laughed at him. “Face your death with some courage, thief!” The soldier pushed him off the cart with a snort as the thief groveled in the dirt before standing, still babbling that he wasn’t with the Stormcloaks. He begged them to tell them that he wasn’t with them, and the soldier beside her now chuckled.

                “Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time!” The soldier in all metal snarled, and the redhead recognized the plating she had to mean she was of the captain rank. She had seen it in a book of her fathers from his military days. The soldier rolled his eyes, “Empire loves their damn lists…” There was a moment pause, and the first name was called out. She held her breath as he went immediately, head held high. “Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm.” The soldier barked a fairwell, “It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!” And beside them the soldiers who were on the other cart voiced similar goodbyes. The next name. “Ralof of Riverwood!” The soldier stepped away from her, head also held high as he went toward the block and the hulking figure with the axe in his hand. She swallowed as the thief in front of her answered the call for “Lokir of Rorikstead!” Immediately the thief went toward them, but panicked. “No, I’m not a rebel! You can’t do this!” He began to run and the captain screamed at him to halt, then signaled her archers. “You’re not going to kill me!” He screamed before an arrow pierced the back of his skull and flung blood on the sidewalk. The redhead looked away, feeling a tightening in her throat. “Anyone else feel like running?” She barked back at the prisoners and the redhead felt her feet practically turn to lead. Immediately the man calling names beside the captain looked at her and she flinched, eyes wide as she looked back at him. He frowned, “Wait, you there. Step forward… Who are you?”   
                  
                Her voice was soft as she spoke, “My-y name is Cassander, I’m from a small island off the coast of Cyrodil named Stirk. My family is from Skyrim though. My uncle- I swear, he lives here in Helgen. He’s a trader.” She swallowed and tried to explain more and the captain rolled her eyes. “It-it’s true… I was born here, and my mother took me to live in Stirk after my father died. He was a soldier.” The captain laughed, “Right. And I suppose you lost your papers crossing the border.” Cassander opened her mouth and then frowned, not answering her.  “You picked a bad time to come back home, kinsman.” He murmured to her and turned to the captain, a mixed expression on his face. “Captain, what should we do, she’s not on the list.” She looked at Cassander and gestured with her head, uncaring. “Forgot the list. She goes to the block.” And her arms crossed as the man turned back to her, “I’m sorry.  I’ll make sure your remains are returned home, where it was that you came from.” Cassander swallowed and she opened her mouth again before the captain growled, “Speak again and I’ll gag you like the rebel.” The man who calling out names seemed to shut his eyes at the thought and immediately told Cassander in an even softer voice, as if he disagreed with the decision but still had to follow it, “Follow the Captain, prisoner.”

                Her throat was tight as she watched the prisoners around her while following the captain with slow steps. She could feel the surprisingly rough terrain underneath each step that she took. Even the air was hotter than what she was used to on the beach of Stirk where she had hunted and played since she was a small child. Her eyes settled on the man she assumed was the General, mouth dry and pupils dilated in fear of what was to come. She knew, of course, but she hadn't been so ready to die this early in her life. “Ulfric Stormcloak. Some people in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn’t use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne.” Cassander’s eyes widened as she looked at the man she had ridden beside moments ago. He grunted at the general, as if he wanted to defend himself. The general shook his head, narrowing his eyes, “You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace.” He was about to say something else when suddenly there was a roar in the distance. She felt a chill run through her, a soldier muttered that it was an elk- but clearly they had never heard an elk cry. This was much more reptilian… much larger, than an elk. “What was that?” The soldier who had called their names murmured. Tulius answered him immediately, “It’s nothing. Carry on.” The Captain immediately barked for them to be given their last rights. Which was immediately interrupted by a Stormcloak soldier, “For the love of Talos, shut up and let’s get this over with!” He snapped as he walked toward the block with his head held high.

                “Come on! I haven’t got all morning!” He snarled as the Captain kicked him in the back of the leg and had him nearly go face first into the block. His nose made a sharp crack against the stone and there was a bit of blood there for a moment since he didn’t have use of his hands to stop himself. Through the blood dripping on his face he looked at the Imperial soldiers around him. “My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?” He looked up at the axe coming toward him and Cassander had to look away as she heard the sickening sound of blood come from the wound. She shivered, despite the heat. She understood that they were traitors, but by the gods, what a horrible way to die. Another soldier, who must have known him screamed her heart out, “You Imperial bastards!” The soldier had tears in her eyes as she looked at his corpse, who they didn’t even bother to move. There were answering calls of ‘justice’ and proud cheers. While the soldiers whispered their softened words of farewell to their friend. They still hadn’t even bothered to move the corpse before telling Cassander to come forward.  Her eyes went wide as the Captain pointed at her and shouted, “Next, the Nord!” Someone shouted directly behind her, “Death to the Stormcloaks!”

                Cassander bit her tongue, wanting to shout at her for her disrespect. Not to her, but for man who was a traitor, who had willingly approached his death. There was no honor in a coward’s death, but he had approached his with finality. Honestly, she couldn’t disrespect him for that. She didn’t move for a moment then jerked forward, knees shaking. She took a step and the same roar sounded again, making her eyes turn skyward for a moment. “There it is again. Did you hear that?” The Captain took a step toward her, hand on her sword. “I _said,_ next prisoner!” The man who had called the names spoke softly to her, as if coaxing a wild animal toward a trap. “To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy.” She stepped forward again, eyes low as she turned toward the block and was pushed much similar to the soldier. Cassander managed to miss her nose though, looking up at the man in black. He was burly, and showed absolutely no remorse in his eyes. She didn’t see his eyes or face for the mask, and tried not to shake as he readied the axe. There were more roars in the distance that were getting closer.

                She had closed her eyes when someone screamed, “What in Oblivation is that?!” She opened them to the axe high above the man’s head. Her green eyes focused on the black monster above him. She had seen pictures of them when she was younger. Of _dragons_ that had once traveled the world and brought peace and destruction to all those who laid eyes on them. Her breath caught as red eyes focused on her where she was and she felt something stir inside her so powerful, she felt as if she would faint in a moment. The Captain was stupid enough to ask, “Sentries! What do you see?!” Cassander wondered if she was blind of the beast literally landing on the main tower of Helgen. The Stormcloak soldier who had been crying before let out a terrified scream, “Dragon!” The dragon landed, knocking over the man with the axe, having it come down near her head and removing a few strands of her hair.

                The dragon let out a sound that was unlike anything she had ever heard. She gasped, feeling it’s raw power go through her for a moment. She was trembling, but for entirely new reasons now. Clouds appeared in the sky above it as the dragon surveyed them like ants underneath his might. “Hadvar!” The Captain snarled as he drew a sword and Cassander turned away as he shouted at the soldiers who were too scared to move. “Don’t just stand there, kill it!” Cassander tried to get up before getting completely knocked off her feet by another blast of power. Someone shouted to get the townsfolk to safety and she slowly raised her head. “Hey! Get up! Come on, the gods won’t give us another chance!” Ralof pulled her to her feet, “This way!” He yelled and dragged her through the once remains of the city square. They dodged large fireballs that came flying downward from the sky. They ran in a full sprint toward another tower at the end of the town. Ulfric was there, grabbing hold of Ralof by the armor’s front to bring him inside as a fireball hit the side of the tower. There were other soldiers inside, ones who had only barely made it. Fire blasted the door as soon as they got inside and Ulfric slammed it shut behind them.

                “Jarl Ulfric, what is that thing?! Could the legends be true?!” Ralof asked him, cutting Ulfric bonds with a dagger he had apparently had on him from the beginning. Ulfric removed his gag before doing the same for Rolaf. His voice was soft and a mix of angry and pained, looking out the slit window to see Helgen burning to the ground. His voice was a low rumble and clearly demanded respect and allegiance. Cassander felt neither of those things. “Legends don’t burn down villages.” The dragon knocked into the side of the tower and he looked at his soldiers and those who were able to walk. “We need to move- now!” Ralof ordered those who could move to get the others, “Up through the tower, let’s go!” Cassander had no other place to go but up, and claimed the stairs as best as she could with her bonds still tied. She made it almost to the top step as the wall came tumbling inwards and a dragon’s head appeared there. Fire blasted through the opening and she let out a small scream of fright, hiding up against the wall. Ralof held her arm there to keep her from falling from the devastated steps, “With me, up the tower!” The soldier who had one of the comrades supported with his own body snarled, “Another second out there with the dragon, and they’d both be dead…” He referred to the soldier on his arm and the one that Ulfric was trying to tend to behind them.

                Ralof was beside her in an instant, looking out of the hole the dragon had made. “See the inn on the other side? Jump through the roof and keep going!” She did a double take at him, “You want me to jump!?” She asked him, eyes wide as she looked at the inn that was several feed away and good ten or more feet down. “Go! We’ll follow when we can!” He looked back at his injured comrades. When she refused to go, he almost tossed her out before the dragon was back. She fell for a moment with a scream, rolling just by luck through flames and landed hard on the floor of the inn. Whether it was fear of the dragon or fear of the soldiers, she started running seconds later. She dropped through another hole and outside where she witnessed a soldier die almost instantly from brutal flames. Hadvar was calling to a boy who was frozen in fear, looking at his father who was dead on the ground. “Haming, you need to get over here! Now!” He finally gave up on the body of his father, who did not budge from where he was trying to pull it to safety. It was blackened and long since dead. “That a boy, you’re doing great.” Hadvar swallowed, black soot and blood covering his skin and armor.

                Just as he said it, a dragon landed not too far away and Hadvar pulled Cassander and shouted for someone she didn’t see, she guessed the man beside the boy who was trying to protect him from falling debris was someone else. “Toralf!- Gods, everyone back!” The dragon unleashed fire on them and they only barely made it out of the way. She recovered and Hadvar looked at her, “Still alive, prisoner? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way!” She almost told him off, since he had been the one trying to kill her in the first place before the dragon had suddenly arrived. “Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join the defense!” The older man took the boy by the shirt, “Gods guide you, Hadvar.” He replied in a voice that was raspy with the smoke.  
  
                “Stay close to the wall!” Hadvar shouted after a few moments of running through flames and bodies. There were dead or dying soldiers everywhere. After the dragon had gone she stepped over an archer who begged her to tell his family that he fought bravely. Either way, she was too scared to respond, just kept running after Hadvar, ducking and trying not to panic more than she already was.  So many people were dead. They were trying to fight but most of them were killed nearly instantly. Four soldiers remained, one dying in front of them. Hadvar ran toward them and she followed. “Hadvar! Into the keep, soldier, we’re leaving!” He yelled, looking at what remained of the soldiers around them.  Cassander looked at the families that hadn’t escaped and Hadvar told her to follow him again. The dragon spoke then and she looked up at it’s black wings. It said something that she felt that she should understand but didn’t. Her eyes got wide and Hadvar again ushered her along. In a second Ralof stood before them, “Ralof, you damned traitor, out of our way!” Hadvar snarled and Ralof responded, “We’re escaping, Hadvar. You’re not stopping us this time.”   There was a moment where he considered fighting him then snapped, “Fine! I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!”  The dragon spoke again but Hadvar yanked her into the keep and she fell on her hands and knees into a dark room.

               

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there!  
> Basically I plan to cover a Skyrim play through but from a completely different tale from the normal story. A lot of this will not and will be canon. I'll be doing some serious game divergence. (Example: The dragonborn becoming an empress.) It's going to be an extremely long journey, and I hope you stick around to read the entire thing. It's going to be anywhere from 30 to maybe even 50 chapters. Skyrim is large, and I can't wait to take you along her journey. I did name her Cassander, not after my pen name, but simply because I couldn't find another name that worked. (So sue me.) So for now I'll stick with that. Hell I may even change the name of this fic later. Like I said, it's going to be a long ride, so hold on tight and grab your swords.
> 
> Thanks,  
> Cass


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